Page 118 of The Scribe (Irin Chronicles 1)

Ava opened her mouth just as shouts echoed from the top of the cistern.

“Malachi?”

She let out a cry of relief when she heard Damien’s voice, and two soldiers turned to the dark corner where she hid. Their eyes lit up with predatory glee as they turned to her, and Ava raised the crowbar again.

“Get to Ava!” Malachi shouted, still throwing off his attackers, some of whom had turned to the door. Ava’s eyes scanned the darkness. She moved back and forth, trying to see beyond the forest of pillars.

Where was Brage?

The pale Grigori with the angel’s blade was her greatest fear. She had no idea what would happen to Malachi if he was hit by the weapon in his condition. Would he be able to hold on as long as Leo had?

“Do you see her?”

“I think so.”

The two soldiers drew closer. There was no avoiding them. They were headed straight for her. Ava didn’t wait.

Throwing herself into the light with a guttural shout, she flung herself at the first one, swinging the crowbar down where his neck met his shoulder. She felt the bar sink in as the man’s eyes went wide with shock; then she pulled. He tumbled forward with a splash, and Ava gasped at her own strength. A chunk of flesh ripped from the man’s neck, and his collarbone was slick with blood, sticking out from the top of his chest as he flopped in the water like a wounded carp.

The other Grigori stood still for a moment, then raised a sword, only to look at it with wide eyes and lower it again.

They aren’t supposed to hurt me, Ava realized with grim satisfaction.

She plunged forward, eyes focused on the man’s neck, but he dodged to the side and grabbed her, tearing the crowbar from her hands as he tried to lift her from the water. She resisted for a few moments, her boots stuck in the thick mud, but eventually he tugged again, and her feet came free.

“No!” she screamed as he threw her over his shoulder. “NO!”

“Ava!”

Malachi sawthe Grigori lift her, tossing her over his shoulder like baggage. He started trudging toward the exit, moving as quickly as he could in the heavy water. He was fighting two soldiers, feeling weaker by the moment, but he saw Max spot Ava as Damien sliced his way through the Grigori who swarmed them.

“Max, get Ava!” he yelled as loud as he could. The cistern was filled with the sounds of splashes and grunts, blades ringing against the stone pillars and men crying out in pain. Through it all, Malachi didn’t think. He kept going, his single focus to move toward the soldier with his mate.

Get Ava. Escape the cistern.

Something tugged at his leg, but he kicked it away, losing one of the boots and a shoe at the same time. Sharp stones dug into his foot when he set it down again, and he could feel them pierce his flesh.

Damien moved toward him, throwing off the soldier who had attached himself to Malachi’s back and was trying to grab his weapons. Most of the Grigori had lost their knives in the fight, the blades falling into the water as they struggled.

Malachi held on.

“Max, she’s there!”

“I see her!”

He saw his brother head toward Ava, slicing through two Grigori, dusting one and throwing another into the darkness with a roar.

Almost there.

The lights flickered. Went out.

Ava screamed.

On again.

She’d been stabbed in the fighting. Blood poured from her belly, and he saw her face pale.

“Ava!”

---